The Stand Up


With apologies to Simon and Garfunkel and to Twickenham’s favourite Irishman Noel Murphy whose parody the Folkster gave me the idea. Dedicated to my son Dave who is a promising comedian (unlike the one in the poem) and has been featured in Time Out magazine as ‘one to watch’.

The Stand Up
I am just a comic
Though my gags are getting old
I have squandered my material
For I just stand here and mumble, I lack much promise
Such ancient jests
Still I keep the gags they want to hear
And disregard the rest
When I left my home and my family
I was working just for free
In the company of strangers
And the silence of a laugh-less room
Really scared,
Sinking low, seeking out the lousy rotten gigs
Where no-one else would go
Searching all those places
That no-one else would know
Ha, ha, ha, ha ha ha ha he he
Ha, ha, ha, ha ha ha ha he hey ho
Asking only for expenses
I went looking for a gig
But I got no offers
Just a come-on from the shows
That never pay their acts
I do declare
There were times when I was desperate
So I took some comfort there, he, he, he, he, he, he, he.

Now I’m pulling on my winter draws
And wishing I was warm
Earning money
Where comedy promoters
Aren’t bleeding me
Grieving me
Going home

On the stage there stands a jester
And a comic by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of the heckles that they made
And they cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the comic still remains, mmm mmm

He ha ha, ha ha ha ha hi he
Ha ha, he ha ha ha ha he he
Etc, etc……